Reading City of Bones
by The High Warlock Of Dublin
Summary: Simon, Izzy, Alec, Magnus, Maia, Jordan, Clary, Jace, Jocelyn and Luke read City of Bones. Set after CoLS (so spoilers from now on). Malec is my OTP so I'm ignoring the fact that they broke up in this story :D
1. Prologue

**So I've seen this sort of thing done before and decided to try my hand at it. If anyone wants me to continue please review, or else I'll assume that no one's interested. So in this the characters read the City of Bones book. It's set after City of Lost Souls 9so spoiler alert: even in this AN) but seeing as Malec is my OTP. I'm electing to ignore the fact that they broke up.**

Clary was hanging around the institute with Jace when a portal appeared in front of them. They stared at it, wondering where it came from and who was going to step out of it, when- as if by magnetic force- they were pulled into it.

When they reappeared they were in a room with Simon, Isabelle, Alec, Magnus, Maia, Jordan, Jocelyn and Luke. They al looked just as confused as Clary felt but before any questions could be asked a book fell from the ceiling and onto the table in the center of the room.

A note was stuck to the top of the book and Clary took it wordlessly and started reading.

"_Dear Friends,_

_You probably wonder why you were taken from your everyday life and thrown into this room with your friends and family. This book is an account of what happened the first time Clarissa Fairchild came to the attention of the residents of the new York Institute, set in her point of view. You don't have to read it, if you decide you would prefer not to know, you need only write 'No' on this paper. Happy reading!" _Clary, along with everyone else stared incredulously at the note. Simon was first to speak.

"I want to read it! Think about- an insight into the wonderful makings of Clary's mind!" he looked excitedly at everyone, all but Clary, Jocelyn, Luke and Jace seemed wary.

"They're her private thoughts, it's none of our business knowing them." Clary looked gratefully up at him, that is until Izzy spoke.

"You'll get to hear what she thought of you at first.." she sang. Jace perked up at this and all his previous worries seemed to be erased.

"I'M READING FIRST!" he called, and snatched up the book.

Clary groaned, not wanting everyone knowing her thoughts but democracy ruled so she jst sat down beside Jace on one of the loveseats that surrounded the table in the room.

The others were occupied by: Magnus and Alec, Izzy and Simon, Maia and Jordan, and Jocelyn and Luke. Jocelyn looked distainfully at Jace, not forgetting the previous connection he had had with her son, the evil Sebastian. Luke looked at him warily for an entirely different reason- if Jace even thought of hurting his Clary, he would have Luke and his entire pack to answer to. Though, he seemed to really love her so neither of Clary's parents said anything, but looked on, ready to catch her if he let her fall.

"**Pandemonium"**

**So review if you want this to continue, or if you have any tips on how to make this better… Everything is appreciated!**

_**-Rolo**_


	2. Pandemonium, Chapter 1

**Okay, so anyone that read An Interesting Exchange will know that I'm awful at updating, so I'm sorry but I'll try to get something up every week, at least every fortnight :D Here's the chapter!**

**"Pandemonium" **Jace began.

**"You've got to be kidding me," the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. "You can't bring that in here."**

"Hey! This is when Clary first sees you guys! At the Pandemonium!" Simon exclaimed. Clary groaned internally. She had no idea what she had thought the first time she saw them but she had a feeling they wouldn't like it.

**The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. **

**"Wow- you must've had a really hard time getting in, Simon," Jace mocked.**

**"Shut up!" he snapped as Clary, Jordan, Maia and Izzy cracked up. Jocelyn and Luke just smiled.**

**Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. **

**"Aw, come on." The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. "It's part of my costume." **

"Wait- is that the demon we killed that night?" Izzy inquired. Clary just looked down and nodded. She remembered perfectly what she had thought of _him._

**The bouncer raised an eyebrow. "Which is what?" **

**The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, **

Jordan scoffed.

**Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. "I'm a vampire hunter." **

**He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. "It's fake. Foam rubber. See?" **

"How did he do that?" Simon asked.

Maia simply wiggled her fingers and said, "Magic."

**The boy's wide eyes were way too bright a green, Clary noticed: the color of antifreeze, spring grass.**

"But wouldn't he use a glamour?" Jordan asked no one in particular, "I thought you took away her sight?" he continued, though this time the question was directed towards Jocelyn.

She looked down, abashed, and said, "It was wearing off.

** Colored contact lenses, probably. **

"Oh the excuses you mundies will make to hide our world…" Alec teased.

"Hey! She's not a mundie! She's the bravest Shadowhunter of them all." Jace smilled down at Clary as she blushed.

"Awwwww…" coursed Isabelle, Magnus and Maia

"Whipped," Alec, Jordan and Simon mumbled, only to be smacked o the arm by their respective partners.

**The bouncer shrugged, abruptly bored. "Whatever. Go on in." **

**The boy slid past him, quick as an eel. Clary liked the lilt to his shoulders, the way he tossed his hair as he went. **

"You thought it was hot!" Jace screeched.

"Oh leave it out, Jace," Isabelle chided, "It had shape shifted into a good looking guy." Jace grumbled but didn't respond in any other way.

**There was a word for him that her mother would have used—insouciant.**

Jocelyn smiled, "There are several words I would have used to describe him…"

**"You thought he was cute," said Simon, sounding resigned. "Didn't you?" **

"See! Even Simon thought he was cute!" Izzy exclaimed, Simon glared as everyone laughed. When it was calm again, Jace continued reading.

**Clary dug her elbow into his ribs, but didn't answer. **

**Inside, the club was full of dry-ice smoke. Colored lights played over the dance floor, turning it into a multicolored fairyland of blues and acid greens, hot pinks and golds. **

**The boy in the red jacket stroked the long razor-sharp blade in his hands, an idle smile playing over his lips. It had been so easy—a little bit of a glamour on the blade, to make it look harmless. **

"Wait, why isn't it in Clary's point of view anymore?"

Everyone shrugged and resided that it would be back to her soon, something Clary was less than happy about.

**Another glamour on his eyes, and the moment the bouncer had looked straight at him, he was in. Of course, he could probably have gotten by without all that trouble, but it was part of the fun—fooling the mundies, doing it all out in the open right in front of them, getting off on the blank looks on their sheep-like faces. **

**Not that the humans didn't have their uses. The boy's green eyes scanned the dance floor, **

Luke looked at the book, disgusted.

**where slender limbs clad in scraps of silk and black leather appeared and disappeared inside the revolving columns of smoke as the mundies danced. Girls tossed their long hair, boys swung their leather-clad hips, and bare skin glittered with sweat. Vitality just poured off them, waves of energy that filled him with a drunken dizziness. His lip curled. They didn't know how lucky they were. They didn't know what it was like to eke out life in a dead world, where the sun hung limp in the sky like a burned cinder. Their lives burned as brightly as candle flames—and were as easy to snuff out. **

**His hand tightened on the blade he carried, and he had begun to step out onto the dance floor when a girl broke away from the mass of dancers and began walking toward him.**

"Woo!" Iz cheered, "The star has entered the story!"

"Sorry Iz, but for some reason I think a sarcastic blond Shadowhunter will be the star of this story. It is from our 'ickle Clary-bear's perspective" Magus pointed out, much to the embarrassment of Clary.

** He stared at her. She was beautiful, for a human—long hair nearly the precise color of black ink, charcoaled eyes. Floor-length white gown, the kind women used to wear when this world was younger.**

Alec growled, that_ thing_ had no business thinking about his sister like that. Magnus rubbed soothing circles in his back and he automatically relaxed and melted into his loving boyfriend's chiseled chest.

** Lace sleeves belled out around her slim arms. Around her neck was a thick silver chain, on which hung a dark red pendant the size of a baby's fist. **

**He only had to narrow his eyes to know that it was real—real and precious.**

Magnus smiled, remembering the boy he first gave that to.

** His mouth started to water as she neared him. Vital energy pulsed from her like blood from an open wound. She smiled, passing him, beckoning with her eyes. He turned to follow her, tasting the phantom sizzle of her death on his lips. **

**It was always easy. He could already feel the power of her evaporating life coursing through his veins like fire. Humans were so stupid. They had something so precious, and they barely safeguarded it at all. They threw away their lives for money, for packets of powder, for a stranger's charming smile. The girl was a pale ghost retreating through the colored smoke. She reached the wall and turned, bunching her skirt up in her hands, lifting it as she grinned at him. Under the skirt, she was wearing thigh-high boots.**

**He sauntered up to her, his skin prickling with her nearness. Up close she wasn't so perfect: He could see the mascara smudged under her eyes, the sweat sticking her hair to her neck. He could smell her mortality, the sweet rot of corruption. Got you, he thought. A cool smile curled her lips. She moved to the side, and he could see that she was leaning against a closed door, NO ADMITTANCE—STORAGE was scrawled across it in red paint. **

Jace and Alec smirked at each other, knowing what was waiting for the scumbag demon that thought of their sister like she was a piece of meat.

**She reached behind her for the knob, turned it, slid inside. He caught a glimpse of stacked boxes, tangled wiring. A storage room. He glanced behind him—no one was looking. So much the better if she wanted privacy. **

**He slipped into the room after her, unaware that he was being followed. **

**"So," Simon said, "pretty good music, eh?" **

"Yay- back to Clary's perspective!" Jordan cheered.

**Clary didn't reply. They were dancing, or what passed for it— a lot of swaying back and forth with occasional lunges toward the floor as if one of them had dropped a contact lens—in a space between a group of teenage boys in metallic corsets, and a young Asian couple who were making out passionately, their colored hair extensions tangled together like vines. A boy with a lip piercing and a teddy bear backpack was handing out free tablets of herbal ecstasy, his parachute pants flapping in the breeze from the wind machine. Clary wasn't paying much attention to their immediate surroundings—her eyes were on the blue-haired boy who'd talked his way into the club. **

**He was prowling through the crowd as if he were looking for something. There was something about the way he moved that reminded her of something… **

Jace scowled, not liking that _his _girl was interested in that _thing_. Even for a short amount of time.

**"I, for one," Simon went on, "am enjoying myself immensely." **

**This seemed unlikely. Simon, as always, stuck out at the club like a sore thumb, in jeans and an old T-shirt that said MADE IN BROOKLYN across the front. His freshly scrubbed hair was dark brown instead of green or pink, and his glasses perched crookedly on the end of his nose. He looked less as if he were contemplating the powers of darkness and more as if he were on his way to chess club. **

"Hey!' Simon called again. While Izzy just smiled and said, "Well..." but was silenced with one look from her vampire boyfriend.

**"Mmm-hmm." Clary knew perfectly well that he came to Pandemonium with her only because she liked it, that he thought it was boring. She wasn't even sure why it was that she liked it— the clothes, the music made it like a dream, someone else's life, not her boring real life at all. But she was always too shy to talk to anyone but Simon. **

Jace smiled fondly, glad that no other boys had had a chance with her.

**The blue-haired boy was making his way off the dance floor. He looked a little lost, as if he hadn't found who he was looking for. Clary wondered what would happen if she went up and introduced herself, offered to show him around. Maybe he'd just stare at her. Or maybe he was shy too. Maybe he'd be grateful and pleased, and try not to show it, the way boys did— but she'd know. Maybe— **

Jace, once again, scowled at the book. He was scowling quite a lot.

**The blue-haired boy straightened up suddenly, snapping to attention, like a hunting dog on point. Clary followed the line of his gaze, and saw the girl in the white dress. **

**Oh, well, Clary thought, trying not to feel like a deflated party balloon. I guess that's that. The girl was gorgeous, the kind of girl Clary would have liked to draw—tall and ribbon-slim, with a long spill of black hair.**

"Aww, thanks Clary!" Isabelle exclaimed and bounded across the room to hug the girl.

**Even at this distance Clary could see the red pendant around her throat. It pulsed under the lights of the dance floor like a separate, disembodied heart. **

**"I feel," Simon went on, "that this evening DJ Bat is doing a singularly exceptional job. Don't you agree?" **

**Clary rolled her eyes and didn't answer; Simon hated trance music. Her attention was on the girl in the white dress. Through the darkness, smoke, and artificial fog, her pale dress shone out like a beacon. No wonder the blue-haired boy was following her as if he were under a spell, too distracted to notice anything else around him—even the two dark shapes hard on his heels, weaving after him through the crowd. **

Jace and Alec seemed embarrassed that the girl had spotted them so easily.

**Clary slowed her dancing and stared. She could just make out that the shapes were boys, tall and wearing black clothes. She couldn't have said how she knew that they were following the other boy, but she did. She could see it in the way they paced him, their careful watchfulness, the slinking grace of their movements. A small flower of apprehension began to open inside her chest. **

**"Meanwhile," Simon added, "I wanted to tell you that lately I've been cross-dressing. Also, I'm sleeping with your mom. I thought you should know." **

"Simon!" Jocelyn gasped.

He looked embarrassed, and if he was able to blush, he would have. "I was just trying to get her attention…"

**The girl had reached the wall, and was opening a door marked NO ADMITTANCE. She beckoned the blue-haired boy after her, and they slipped through the door. It wasn't anything Clary hadn't seen before, a couple sneaking off to the dark corners of the club to make out—but that made it even weirder that they were being followed. **

**She raised herself up on tiptoe, trying to see over the crowd. The two guys had stopped at the door and seemed to be conferring with each other. One of them was blond, the other dark-haired. The blond one reached into his jacket and drew out something long and sharp that flashed under the strobing lights. A knife. **

**"Simon!" Clary shouted, and seized his arm. "**

**"What?" Simon looked alarmed. "I'm not really sleeping with your mom, you know. I was just trying to get your attention. Not that your mom isn't a very attractive woman, for her age."**

"No way!" Jordan gasped sarcastically.

"And what do you mean by "For her age"?" Jocelyn raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. Simon looked around for help and, in a moment of sympathy, Jace continued reading.

**"Do you see those guys?" She pointed wildly, almost hitting a curvy black girl who was dancing nearby. The girl shot her an evil look. "Sorry—sorry!" Clary turned back to Simon. "Do you see those two guys over there? By that door?" **

**Simon squinted "There are two of them. They were following the guy with the blue hair—" **

**"The one you thought was cute?" **

**"Yes, but that's not the point. The blond one pulled a knife." **

**"Are you sure?" Simon stared harder, shaking his head. "I still don't see anyone." **

"Shocker," Jace said, moment of sympathy, over.

**"I'm sure." **

**Suddenly all business, Simon squared his shoulders. "I'll get one of the security guards. You stay here." He strode away, pushing through the crowd. **

"Ah, the hero of the story, to the rescue!" Maia smirked.

"Everyone lay of Simon," Clary ordered, feeling sorry for her best friend. Simon shot her a grateful look as her boyfriend read on.

**Clary turned just in time to see the blond boy slip through the NO ADMITTANCE door, his friend right on his heels. She looked around; Simon was still trying to shove his way across the dance floor, but he wasn't making much progress. Even if she yelled now, no one would hear her, and by the time Simon got back, something terrible might already have happened. Biting hard on her lower lip, Clary started to wriggle through the crowd. **

"There's a break here," Jace announced.

**"What's your name?" **

**She turned and smiled. What faint light there was in the storage room spilled down through high barred windows smeared with dirt. Piles of electrical cables, along with broken bits of mirrored disco balls and discarded paint cans littered the floor. **

**"Isabelle." **

**"That's a nice name." He walked toward her, stepping carefully among the wires in case any of them were live. In the faint light she looked half-transparent, bleached of color, wrapped in white like an angel. It would be a pleasure to make her fall…"I haven't seen you here before." **

**"You're asking me if I come here often?" She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.**

"Your performance skills never fail to amaze me, Iz." Jace praised, looking impressed at his sister's talent.

** There was some sort of bracelet around her wrist, just under the cuff of her dress—then, as he neared her, he saw that it wasn't a bracelet at all but a pattern inked into her skin, a matrix of swirling lines. **

**He froze. "You—" **

"Ah, he finally figured it out…" Simon mocked.

"Shut up, it took you long enough to understand this world," Magnus said, "And to realize that it isn't a good idea to drink those funny little drinks at my parties…" He laughed and raised his eyebrow.

**He didn't finish. She moved with lightning swiftness, striking out at him with her open hand, a blow to his chest that would have sent him down gasping if he'd been a human being. **

Simon hugged his girlfriend tighter- knowing she was able for it, but hating that she endangered herself so much.

Isabelle would never admit it, but she kind of liked his over-protectiveness.

**He staggered back, and now there was something in her hand, a coiling whip that glinted gold as she brought it down, curling around his ankles, jerking him off his feet. He hit the ground, writhing, the hated metal biting deep into his skin. She laughed, standing over him, and dizzily he thought that he should have known. No human girl would wear a dress like the one Isabelle wore. She'd worn it to cover her skin—all of her skin. **

**Isabelle yanked hard on the whip, securing it. Her smile glittered like poisonous water. "He's all yours, boys." **

Jace and Alec smirked at each other.

**A low laugh sounded behind him, and now there were hands on him, hauling him upright, throwing him against one of the concrete pillars. He could feel the damp stone under his back. His hands were pulled behind him, his wrists bound with wire. As he struggled, someone walked around the side of the pillar into his view: a boy, as young as Isabelle and just as pretty.**

"Pretty?!" Alec asked, incredulous, "Really, Clary. I'm not pretty!"

"Sure you are," his boyfriend answered, but changed the direction of his sentence upon seeing the look on Alec's face, "I mean, ahem, you are very macho and hot and sexy."

Alec just laughed and kissed his boyfriend. It was the thought that count.

**His tawny eyes glittered like chips of amber. "So," the boy said. "Are there any more with you?" **

**The blue-haired boy could feel blood welling up under the too-tight metal, making his wrists slippery. "Any other what?" **

**"Come on now." The tawny-eyed boy held up his hands, and his dark sleeves slipped down, showing the runes inked all over his wrists, the backs of his hands, his palms. "You know what I am." **

**Far back inside his skull, the shackled boy's second set of teeth began to grind. **

**"Shadowhunter," he hissed. **

**The other boy grinned all over his face. "Got you," he said. **

**Clary pushed the door to the storage room open, and stepped inside. **

"Ooh, we get to hear what you thought of us!" Jace said excitedly. Clary was less happy by this, but merely snuggled farther into her boyfriend's chest, an action that did not go unnoticed by her parents.

**For a moment she thought it was deserted. The only windows were high up and barred; faint street noise came through them, the sound of honking cars and squealing brakes. The room smelled like old paint, and a heavy layer of dust covered the floor, marked by smeared shoe prints. **

Simon edged forward in his seat, anxious to hear what Clary saw that night to make her that freaked out.

**There's no one in here, she realized, looking around in bewilderment. **

Magnus smirked in pride of his good work.

**It was cold in the room, despite the August heat outside. Her back was icy with sweat. She took a step forward, tangling her feet in electrical wires. She bent down to free her sneaker from the cables—and heard voices. A girl's laugh, a boy answering sharply. When she straightened up, she saw them. **

**It was as if they had sprung into existence between one blink of her eyes and the next. There was the girl in her long white dress, her black hair hanging down her back like damp seaweed.**

"Damp seaweed?!" Isabelle screeched.

Clary tried to sooth her by saying: "Remember my first impression- "beautiful", "lovely". That's what you're really like."

Isabelle just huffed, crossed her arms and glared.

**The two boys were with her—the tall one with black hair like hers, and the smaller, fair one, whose hair gleamed like brass in the dim light coming through the windows high above. The fair boy was standing with his hands in his pockets, facing the punk kid, who was tied to a pillar with what looked like piano wire, his hands stretched behind him, his legs bound at the ankles. His face was pulled tight with pain and fear.**

"Sounds like something we should try…" Magnus muttered to Alec, making a blush cover his entire face and neck.

Jordan, having heard, made a disgusted face, not liking the mental image that was permanently ingrained into his psyche.

** Heart hammering in her chest, Clary ducked behind the nearest concrete pillar and peered around it. She watched as the fair-haired boy paced back and forth, his arms now crossed over his chest.**

"Of course she was looking at him..." Isabelle muttered, much to the amusement of Simon.

** "So," he said. "You still haven't told me if there are any other of your kind with you." **

**Your kind? Clary wondered what he was talking about. Maybe she'd stumbled into some kind of gang war. **

At this everyone burst out laughing.

**"I don't know what you're talking about." The blue-haired boy's tone was pained but surly. **

**"He means other demons," said the dark-haired boy, speaking for the first time. "You do know what a demon is, don't you?" **

**The boy tied to the pillar turned his face away, his mouth working. **

**"Demons," drawled the blond boy, tracing the word on the air with his finger. "Religiously defined as hell's denizens, the servants of Satan, but understood here, for the purposes of the Clave, to be any malevolent spirit whose origin is outside our own home dimension—" **

**"That's enough, Jace," said the girl. **

**"Isabelle's right," agreed the taller boy. "Nobody here needs a lesson in semantics—or demonology." **

"It seems Clary did…" Maia teased. Jocelyn, once again, felt bad about stealing her daughter's memories and sight, but no one picked up on this but Luke.

**They're crazy, Clary thought. Actually crazy. **

**Jace raised his head and smiled. There was something fierce about the gesture, something that reminded Clary of documentaries she'd watched about lions on the Discovery Channel, the way the big cats would raise their heads and sniff the air for prey. **

**"Isabelle and Alec think I talk too much," he said, confidingly. "Do you think I talk too much?" **

**The blue-haired boy didn't reply. His mouth was still working. "I could give you information," he said. "I know where Valentine is." **

Everyone quieted. Jace read on, hoping to mask the awkward silence.

**Clary could take no more. She stepped out from behind the pillar. "Stop!" she cried. "You can't do this." **

**Jace whirled, so startled that the knife flew from his hand and clattered against the concrete floor.**

Simon snorted, "Nice, stealthy…" Jace glared but Clary just smiled up at him and snuggled in closer to him, instantly relaxing him and encouraging him to read on.

** Isabelle and Alec turned along with him, wearing identical expressions of astonishment. The blue-haired boy hung in his bonds, stunned and gaping. **

**It was Alec who spoke first. "What's this?" he demanded, looking from Clary to his companions, as if they might know what she was doing there. **

**"It's a girl," Jace said, recovering his composure. "Surely you've seen girls before, Alec. Your sister Isabelle is one." He took a step closer to Clary, squinting as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. "A mundie girl," he said, half to himself. "And she can see us." **

Alec glared at his parabatai.

**"Of course I can see you," Clary said. "I'm not blind, you know." **

**"Oh, but you are," said Jace, bending to pick up his knife. "You just don't know it." He straightened up. "You'd better get out of here, if you know what's good for you." **

**"I'm not going anywhere," Clary said. "If I do, you'll kill him." She pointed at the boy with the blue hair. **

**"That's true," admitted Jace, twirling the knife between his fingers. "What do you care if I kill him or not?" **

**"Be-because—," Clary spluttered. "You can't just go around killing people." **

**"You're right," said Jace. "You can't go around killing people." He pointed at the boy with blue hair, whose eyes were slitted. Clary wondered if he'd fainted. "That's not a person, little girl. It may look like a person and talk like a person and maybe even bleed like a person. But it's a monster." **

**"Jace," said Isabelle warningly. "That's enough." **

"Isabelle? The voice of reason? MaD_nEss_!" Jordan exclaimed, only to be silence by the evil eye from said girl.

**"You're crazy," Clary said, backing away from him. "I've called the police, you know. They'll be here any second." **

**"She's lying," said Alec, but there was doubt on his face. "Jace, do you—" **

**He never got to finish his sentence. At that moment the blue-haired boy, with a high, yowling cry, tore free of the restraints binding him to the pillar, and flung himself on Jace. **

**They fell to the ground and rolled together, the blue-haired boy tearing at Jace with hands that glittered as if tipped with metal. Clary backed up, wanting to run, but her feet caught on a loop of wiring and she went down, knocking the breath out of her chest. She could hear Isabelle shrieking. Rolling over, Clary saw the blue-haired boy sitting on Jace's chest. Blood gleamed at the tips of his razorlike claws. **

**Isabelle and Alec were running toward them, Isabelle brandishing a whip in her hand. The blue-haired boy slashed at Jace with claws extended. Jace threw an arm up to protect himself, and the claws raked it, splattering blood. The blue-haired boy lunged again—and Isabelle's whip came down across his back. He shrieked and fell to the side. **

**Swift as a flick of Isabelle's whip, Jace rolled over. There was a blade gleaming in his hand. He sank the knife into the blue-haired boy's chest. Blackish liquid exploded around the hilt. The boy arched off the floor, gurgling and twisting. With a grimace Jace stood up. His black shirt was blacker now in some places, wet with blood. He looked down at the twitching form at his feet, reached down, and yanked out the knife. The hilt was slick with black fluid. **

**The blue-haired boy's eyes flickered open. His eyes, fixed on Jace, seemed to burn. Between his teeth, he hissed, "So be it. The Forsaken will take you all." **

**Jace seemed to snarl. The boy's eyes rolled back. His body began to jerk and twitch as he crumpled, folding in on himself, growing smaller and smaller until he vanished entirely. **

**Clary scrambled to her feet, kicking free of the electrical wiring. She began to back away. None of them was paying attention to her. Alec had reached Jace and was holding his arm, pulling at the sleeve, probably trying to get a good look at the wound. Clary turned to run—and found her way blocked by Isabelle, whip in hand. The gold length of it was stained with dark fluid. She flicked it toward Clary, and the end wrapped itself around her wrist and jerked tight. Clary gasped with pain and surprise. **

"Grrrrrrr…" Jace growled at his sister.

"Oh give it a break! I would never hurt Clary," at the incredulous looks she was receiving she amended her statement, "Okay, I would never hurt her _severly_…"

**"Stupid little mundie," Isabelle said between her teeth. "You could have gotten Jace killed." **

**"He's crazy," Clary said, trying to pull her wrist back. The whip bit deeper into her skin. "You're all crazy. What do you think you are, vigilante killers? The police—" **

**"The police aren't usually interested unless you can produce a body," said Jace. Cradling his arm, he picked his way across the cable-strewn floor toward Clary. Alec followed behind him, face screwed into a scowl. **

"We'll be hearing that a lot this book," Clary muttered. Jace was too busy reading to hear but Alec shot her an apologetic smile, ashamed at how awful he had treated her when she first entered the lives of himself and his siblings.

**Clary glanced at the spot where the boy had disappeared from, and said nothing. There wasn't even a smear of blood there—nothing to show that the boy had ever existed. **

**"They return to their home dimensions when they die," said Jace. "In case you were wondering." **

**"Jace," Alec hissed. "Be careful." **

**Jace drew his arm away. A ghoulish freckling of blood marked his face. He still reminded her of a lion, with his wide-spaced, light-colored eyes, and that tawny gold hair. "She can see us, Alec," he said. "She already knows too much." **

**"So what do you want me to do with her?" Isabelle demanded. **

**"Let her go," Jace said quietly. Isabelle shot him a surprised, almost angry look, but didn't argue. The whip slithered away, freeing Clary's arm. She rubbed her sore wrist and wondered how the hell she was going to get out of there. **

Cue another glare from Jace.

**"Maybe we should bring her back with us," Alec said. "I bet Hodge would like to talk to her." **

At the mention of Hodge the atmosphere darkened.

**"No way are we bringing her to the Institute," said Isabelle. "She's a mundie." **

**"Or is she?" said Jace softly. His quiet tone was worse than Isabelle's snapping or Alec's anger. "Have you had dealings with demons, little girl? Walked with warlocks, talked with the Night Children? Have you—" **

**"My name is not 'little girl,'" Clary interrupted.**

"That's right, don't let him sass you!" Simon called. Clary smiled at him while Jace and Isabelle merely rolled their eyes.

** "And I have no idea what you're talking about." '****_Don't you?_****' said a voice in the back of her head. '****_You saw that boy vanish into thin air._****_Jace isn't crazy—you just wish he were.' _****"I don't believe in—in demons, or whatever you—" **

**"Clary?" It was Simon's voice. She whirled around. He was standing by the storage room door. One of the burly bouncers who'd been stamping hands at the front door was next to him. "Are you okay?" He peered at her through the gloom. "Why are you in here by yourself? What happened to the guys—you know, the ones with the knives?" **

**Clary stared at him, then looked behind her, where Jace, Isabelle, and Alec stood, Jace still in his bloody shirt with the knife in his hand. He grinned at her and dropped a half-apologetic, half-mocking shrug. Clearly he wasn't surprised that neither Simon nor the bouncer could see them. **

"Bastards.." Clary muttered.

**Somehow neither was Clary. Slowly she turned back to Simon, knowing how she must look to him, standing alone in a damp storage room, her feet tangled in bright plastic wiring cables. "I thought they went in here," she said lamely. "But I guess they didn't. I'm sorry." She glanced from Simon, whose expression was changing from worried to embarrassed, to the bouncer, who just looked annoyed. "It was a mistake." **

"You could have told me you know.." Simon said.

"I know, if anything this crazy ever happens again, you'll be first person I call"

**Behind her, Isabelle giggled. **

**"Break"**

**I don't believe it," Simon said stubbornly as Clary, standing at the curb, tried desperately to hail a cab. Street cleaners had come down Orchard while they were inside the club, and the street was glossed black with oily water. **

**"I know," she agreed. "You'd think there'd be some cabs. Where is everyone going at midnight on a Sunday?" She turned back to him, shrugging. "You think we'd have better luck on Houston?" **

**"Not the cabs," Simon said. "You—I don't believe you. I don't believe those guys with the knives just disappeared." **

**Clary sighed. "Maybe there weren't any guys with knives, Simon. Maybe I just imagined the whole thing." **

**"No way." Simon raised his hand over his head, but the oncoming taxis whizzed by him, spraying dirty water. "I saw your face when I came into that storage room. You looked seriously freaked out, like you'd seen a ghost." **

Jocelyn smiled, glad Clary had a friend that knew her so well. Glad that she had her very own, well, _Luke_.

**Clary thought of Jace with his lion-cat eyes. She glanced down at her wrist, braceleted by a thin red line where Isabelle's whip had curled. No, not a ghost, she thought. Something even weirder than that. **

"Glad we made an impression," Jace said as he tipped an imaginary hat.

**"It was just a mistake," she said wearily. She wondered why she wasn't telling him the truth. Except, of course, that he'd think she was crazy. And there was something about what had happened—something about the black blood bubbling up around Jace's knife, something about his voice when he'd said ****_'Have you talked with the Night Children_****?' that she wanted to keep to herself. "Well, it was a hell of an embarrassing mistake," Simon said. He glanced back at the club, where a thin line still snaked out the door and halfway down the block. "I doubt they'll ever let us back into Pandemonium." **

**"What do you care? You hate Pandemonium." Clary raised her hand again as a yellow shape sped toward them through the fog. This time, though, the taxi screeched to a halt at their corner, the driver laying into his horn as if he needed to get their attention. **

**"Finally we get lucky." Simon yanked the taxi door open and slid onto the plastic-covered backseat. Clary followed, inhaling the familiar New York cab smell of old cigarette smoke, leather, and hair spray. "We're going to Brooklyn," Simon said to the cabbie, and then he turned to Clary. "Look, you know you can tell me anything, right?" **

**Clary hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Sure, Simon," she said. "I know I can." **

**She slammed the cab door shut behind her, and the taxi took off into the night. **

"And that's it for this chapter!" Jace announced, "Who's reading next?"

**Liked it? Hated it? Say so in a review! Please?**

**_-Rolo_**

**Edit: A guest pointed out to me that the bits from the book weren't in bold, sorry fanfiction messed up. They were bolded in my word doc. Sorry- hope this works now!**


	3. Secrets and Lies- Chapter 2

**Woo hoo- quick update! (believe me- a week or less is considered quick for me.) Anyway- enjoy!**

"I'll read," said Luke, to the surprise of his companions. "What? Don't look so surprised, I'm curious too." And with that he started reading**.**

**"Secrets and Lies" **he read.

**The dark prince sat astride his black steed, his sable cape flowing behind him. A golden circlet bound his blond locks, his handsome face was cold with the rage of battle, and… **

"Is that Jace?" Isabelle inquired.

"No, it's..." Clary, embarrassed by the dark knight she used always draw, answered, "Someone else.."

Jace, though intrigued, didn't ask.

**"And his arm looked like an eggplant," **

**Clary muttered to herself in exasperation. The drawing just wasn't working. With a sigh she tore yet another sheet from her sketchpad, crumpled it up, and tossed it against the orange wall of her bedroom. Already the floor was littered with discarded balls of paper, a sure sign that her creative juices weren't flowing the way she'd hoped. She wished for the thousandth time that she could be a bit more like her mother. Everything Jocelyn Fray drew, painted, or sketched was beautiful, and seemingly effortless. **

"Oh, Honey, you're drawings are great… We have different styles, that's all."

Clary just nodded, not liking that the book portrayed all her innermost thoughts and insecurities so vividly.

**Clary pulled her headphones out—cutting off Stepping Razor in midsong—and rubbed her aching temples. It was only then that she became aware that the loud, piercing sound of a ringing telephone was echoing through the apartment. Tossing the sketchpad onto the bed, she jumped to her feet and ran into the living room, where the retro-red phone sat on a table near the front door. **

**"Is this Clarissa Fray?" The voice on the other end of the phone sounded familiar, though not immediately identifiable. **

Simon grinned, unbeknownst to anyone around him.

**Clary twirled the phone cord nervously around her finger. "Yeees?" **

**"Hi, I'm one of the knife-carrying hooligans you met last night in Pandemonium? I'm afraid I made a bad impression and was hoping you'd give me a chance to make it up to—" **

"Jace!" Alec snapped, "You know that that's against the rules! Now, I know Clary turned out to be one of us but how could you have known! It was completely irrespons-"

"Alec! I didn't call..."

"Then who-?" he started again but Luke cut him off.

**"SIMON!" **

"Oh…"

**Clary held the phone away from her ear as he cracked up laughing. "That is so not funny!"**

**"Sure it is. You just don't see the humor." **

**"Jerk." Clary sighed, leaning up against the wall. "You wouldn't be laughing if you'd been here when I got home last night." **

**"Why not?" **

**"My mom. She wasn't happy that we were late. She freaked out. It was messy." **

"I did not "freak out", I just asked where you had been." Defended Jocelyn.

Clary and Luke spoke simultaneously, "You freaked out" the grinned at each other. Jocelyn huffed ant back in her seat.

**"What? It's not our fault there was traffic!" Simon protested. He was the youngest of three children and had a finely honed sense of familial injustice. **

**"Yeah, well, she doesn't see it that way. I disappointed her, I let her down, I made her worry, blah blah blah. I am the _bane _of her _existence," _Clary said, mimicking her mother's precise phrasing with only a slight twinge of guilt. **

**"So, are you grounded?" Simon asked, a little too loudly. Clary could hear a low rumble of voices behind him; people talking over each other. **

**"I don't know yet," she said. "My mom went out this morning with Luke, and they're not back yet. Where are you, anyway? Eric's?" **

**"Yeah. We just finished up practice." A cymbal clashed behind Simon. Clary winced. "Eric's doing a poetry reading over at Java Jones tonight," Simon went on, naming a coffee shop around the corner from Clary's that sometimes had live music at night. "The whole band's going to go to show their support. Want to come?" **

**"Yeah, all right." Clary paused, tugging on the phone cord anxiously. "Wait, no." **

**"Shut up, guys, will you?" Simon yelled, the faintness of his voice making Clary suspect that he was holding the phone away from his mouth. He was back a second later, sounding troubled. "Was that a yes or a no?" **

**"I don't know." Clary bit her lip. "My mom's still mad at me about last night. I'm not sure I want to piss her off by asking for any favors. If I'm going to get in trouble, I don't want it to be on account of Eric's lousy poetry." **

**"Come on, it's not so bad,"**

Everyone looked at Simon. "It's not!"

"It really is, it made me want to gouge my own eyes out…" Jace stated matter of factly and motioned for Luke to read on.

** Simon said. Eric was his next-door neighbor, and the two had known each other most of their lives. They weren't close the way Simon and Clary were, but they had formed a rock band together at the start of sophomore year, along with Eric's friends Matt and Kirk. They practiced together faithfully in Eric's parents' garage every week. "Besides, it's not a favor," Simon added, "It's a poetry slam around the block from your house. It's not like I'm inviting you to some orgy in Hoboken. Your mom can come along if she wants." **

**"ORGY IN HOBOKEN!" Clary heard someone, probably Eric, yell. **

"Your friends are really immature," muttered Maia.

**Another cymbal crashed. She imagined her mother listening to Eric read his poetry, and she shuddered inwardly. **

"It couldn't be that bad… Could it?" said mother asked. Clary and Luke just looked at her and nodded, sadly.

**"I don't know. If all of you show up here, I think she'll freak." **

**"Then I'll come alone. I'll pick you up and we can walk over there together, meet the rest of them there. Your mom won't mind. She loves me." **

"The jury's still out on that one," Jocelyn mumbled, feeling she wouldn't love him as much by the end of this book.

**Clary had to laugh. "Sign of her questionable taste, if you ask me." **

**"Nobody did." Simon clicked off, amid shouts from his bandmates. **

**Clary hung up the phone and glanced around the living room. Evidence of her mother's artistic tendencies was everywhere, from the handmade velvet throw pillows piled on the dark red sofa to the walls hung with Jocelyn's paintings, carefully framed—landscapes, mostly: the winding streets of downtown Manhattan lit with golden light; scenes of Prospect Park in winter, the gray ponds edged with lacelike films of white ice. **

**On the mantel over the fireplace was a framed photo of Clary's father.**

Jocelyn felt uncomfortable but Clary smiled at her, to reassure her that she had been forgiven.

**A thoughtful-looking fair man in military dress, his eyes bore the telltale traces of laugh lines at the corners. He'd been a decorated soldier serving overseas. Jocelyn had some of his medals in a small box by her bed. Not that the medals had done anyone any good when Jonathan Clark had crashed his car into a tree just outside Albany and died before his daughter was even born.  
**

**Jocelyn had gone back to using her maiden name after he died. She never talked about Clary's father, but she kept the box engraved with his initials, J. C, next to her bed. Along with the medals were one or two photos, a wedding ring, and a single lock of blond hair.**

**Sometimes Jocelyn took the box out and opened it and held the lock of hair very gently in her hands before putting it back and carefully locking the box up again. **

**The sound of the key turning in the front door roused Clary out of her reverie. Hastily she threw herself down on the couch and tried to look as if she were immersed in one of the paperbacks her mother had left stacked on the end table. Jocelyn recognized reading as a sacred pastime and usually wouldn't interrupt Clary in the middle of a book, even to yell at her. **

"By the Angel, you mean, you've been tricking me? For how long?!" Clary decided it best not to answer that and motioned for Luke to keep reading, swiftly.

**The door opened with a thump. It was Luke, his arms full of what looked like big square pieces of pasteboard. When he set them down, Clary saw that they were cardboard boxes, folded flat. He straightened up and turned to her with a smile.**

"Ah, the handsome hero has arrived," Luke mock bowed and everyone laughed.

**"Hey, Un—hey, Luke," she said. He'd asked her to stop calling him Uncle Luke about a year ago, claiming that it made him feel old, and anyway reminded him of Uncle Tom's Cabin.**

"Or because you were secretly in love with Ms. Fray and didn't like the implication that you were her brother…" Jordan answered cheekily, "Whichever…"

** Besides, he'd reminded her gently, he wasn't really her uncle, just a close friend of her mother's who'd known her all her life. "Where's Mom?" **

**"Parking the truck," he said, straightening his lanky frame with a groan. He was dressed in his usual uniform: old jeans, a flannel shirt, and a bent pair of gold-rimmed spectacles that sat askew on the bridge of his nose. "Remind me again why this building has no service elevator?" **

**"Because it's old, and has _character," _Clary said immediately. Luke grinned. **

"Are you making fun of me," Clary's mom turned to her finance and daughter, both holding in laughs. She decided not to even wait for an answer but to punch Luke, partly as punishment, partly to make him read.

**"What are the boxes for?" she asked. **

**His grin vanished. "Your mother wanted to pack up some things," he said, avoiding her gaze. **

**"What things?" Clary asked. **

**He gave an airy wave. "Extra stuff lying around the house. Getting in the way. You know she never throws anything out. So what are you up to? Studying?" He plucked the book out of her hand and read out loud: _"The world still teems with those motley beings whom a more sober philosophy has discarded. Fairies and goblins, ghosts and demons, still hover about_—" He lowered the book and looked at her over his glasses. "Is this for school?" **

**_"The Golden Bough? _****No. School's not for a few weeks." Clary took the book back from him. "It's my mom's." **

**"I had a feeling." **

**She dropped it back on the table. "Luke?" **

**"Uh-huh?" The book already forgotten, he was rummaging in the tool kit next to the hearth. "Ah, here it is." He pulled out an orange plastic tape gun and gazed at it with deep satisfaction. **

**"What would you do if you saw something nobody else could see?" **

**The tape gun fell out of Luke's hand, and hit the tiled hearth. He knelt to pick it up, not looking at her. "You mean if I were the only witness to a crime, that sort of thing?" **

**"No. I mean, if there were other people around, but you were the only one who could see something. As if it were invisible to everyone but you." **

"yeah, 'cause that doesn't make you sound crazy at all.." Magnus teased, and Clary, once again, blushed.

**He hesitated, still kneeling, the dented tape gun gripped in his hand. **

**"I know it sounds crazy," Clary ventured nervously, "but…" **

**He turned around. His eyes, very blue behind the glasses, rested on her with a look of firm affection. "Clary, you're an artist, like your mother. That means you see the world in ways that other people don't. It's your gift, to see the beauty and the horror in ordinary things. It doesn't make you crazy—just different. There's nothing wrong with being different." **

"He's right about that" Isabelle smiled at Clary who smiled back. The two girls had gotten very close this past Summer, after they had gotten over the initial shock of having another girl around.

**Clary pulled her legs up, and rested her chin on her knees. In her mind's eye she saw the storage room, Isabelle's gold whip, the blue-haired boy convulsing in his death spasms, and Jace's tawny eyes. _Beauty and horror. _She said, "If my dad had lived, do you think he'd have been an artist too?" **

**Luke looked taken aback. Before he could answer her, the door swung open and Clary's mother stalked into the room, her boot heels clacking on the polished wooden floor. She handed Luke a set of jingling car keys and turned to look at her daughter. **

**Jocelyn Fray was a slim, compact woman, her hair a few shades darker than Clary's and twice as long. At the moment it was twisted up in a dark red knot, stuck through with a graphite pen to hold it in place. She wore paint-spattered overalls over a lavender T-shirt, and brown hiking boots whose soles were caked with oil paint. **

"Gee, thanks Clar, that makes me sound real great"Her mom said sarcastically.

**People always told Clary that she looked like her mother, but she couldn't see it herself. The only thing that was similar about them was their figures: They were both slender, with small chests and narrow hips. She knew she wasn't beautiful like her mother was. To be beautiful you had to be willowy and tall. When you were as short as Clary was, just over five feet, you were cute. Not pretty or beautiful, but cute. Throw in carroty hair and a face full of freckles, and she was a Raggedy Ann to her mother's Barbie doll. **

Luke said, "No, baby, you're beautiful," and she didn't catch her mom's reply, because in that moment, Jace pulled her up into a deep kiss.

"You're the most beautiful I've ever had the pleasure to see, inside and out, and don't you forget it." Jace smiled down at her and she smiled back until her mother cleared her throat and she turned to meet the view of her parents glaring daggers at her boyfriend.

**Jocelyn even had a graceful way of walking that made people turn their heads to watch her go by. Clary, by contrast, was always tripping over her feet. The only time people turned to watch her go by was when she hurtled past them as she fell downstairs. **

**"Thanks for bringing the boxes up," Clary's mother said to Luke, and smiled at him. He didn't return the smile. Clary's stomach did an uneasy flip. Clearly there was something going on. "Sorry it took me so long to find a space. There must be a million people at the park today—" **

**"Mom?" Clary interrupted. "What are the boxes for?" **

**Jocelyn bit her lip. Luke flicked his eyes toward Clary, mutely urging Jocelyn forward. With a nervous twitch of her wrist, Jocelyn pushed a dangling lock of hair behind her ear and went to join her daughter on the couch. **

**Up close Clary could see how tired her mother looked. There were dark half-moons under her eyes, and her lids were pearly with sleeplessness. **

**"Is this about last night?" Clary asked. **

**"No," her mother said quickly, and then hesitated. "Maybe a little. You shouldn't have done what you did last night. You know better." **

**"And I already apologized. What is this about? If you're grounding me, get it over with." **

**"I'm not," said her mother, "grounding you." Her voice was as taut as a wire. She glanced at Luke, who shook his head. **

**"Just tell her, Jocelyn," he said. **

**"Could you not talk about me like I'm not here?" Clary said angrily. "And what do you mean, tell me? Tell me what?" **

"Wow, impatient much?" Magnus laughed. His boyfriend looked up at him.

"You're one to talk, "_Which shirt looks better, blue or purple?" "Do these jeans make me look fat, Alec- are you even listening?!"_" Alec mimicked in a hauntingly good impression of his voice.

**Jocelyn expelled a sigh. "We're going on vacation." **

**Luke's expression went blank, like a canvas wiped clean of paint. **

**Clary shook her head. "That's what this is about? You're going on vacation?" She sank back against the cushions. "I don't get it. Why the big production?" **

**"I don't think you understand. I meant we're all going on vacation. The three of us—you, me, and Luke. We're going to the farmhouse." **

**"Oh." Clary glanced at Luke, but he had his arms crossed over his chest and was staring out the window, his jaw pulled tight. She wondered what was upsetting him. He loved the old farmhouse in upstate New York—he'd bought and restored it himself ten years before, and he went there whenever he could. "For how long?" **

**"For the rest of the summer," said Jocelyn. "I brought the boxes in case you want to pack up any books, painting supplies—" **

**"For the _rest of the summer?" _Clary sat upright with indignation. "I can't do that, Mom. I have plans—Simon and I were going to have a back-to-school party, and I've got a bunch of meetings with my art group, and ten more classes at Tisch—" **

**"I'm sorry about Tisch. But the other things can be canceled. Simon will understand, and so will your art group." **

**Clary heard the implacability in her mother's tone and realized she was serious. "But I paid for those art classes! I saved up all year! You promised." She whirled, ****turning to Luke. "Tell her! Tell her it isn't fair!"**

**Luke didn't look away from the window, though a muscle jumped in his cheek. "She's your mother. It's her decision to make." **

"Traitor." Clary spat at her honorary father. He looked abashed but didn't apologize.

**"I don't get it." Clary turned back to her mother. "Why?" **

**"I have to get away, Clary," Jocelyn said, the corners of her mouth trembling. "I need the peace, the quiet, to paint. And money is tight right now—" **

**"So sell some more of Dad's stocks," Clary said angrily. "That's what you usually do, isn't it?" **

**Jocelyn recoiled. "That's hardly fair." **

**"Look, go if you want to go. I don't care. I'll stay here without you. I can work; I can get a job at Starbucks or something. Simon said they're always hiring. I'm old enough to take care of myself—" **

**"No!" The sharpness in Jocelyn's voice made Clary jump. "I'll pay you back for the art classes, Clary. But you are coming with us. It isn't optional. You're too young to stay here on your own. Something could happen." **

**"Like what? What could happen?" Clary demanded. **

Clary was ashamed at how childish she acted, wishing she never found out the worst of "what could happen". But then again- if she had avoided those situations, she wouldn't have met Jace. Serendipity. That's what people that believed in that kind of thing would have called it.

**There was a crash. She turned in surprise to find that Luke had knocked over one of the framed pictures leaning against the wall. Looking distinctly upset, he set it back. When he straightened, his mouth was set in a grim line. "I'm leaving." **

**Jocelyn bit her lip. "Wait." She hurried after him into the entryway, catching up just as he seized the doorknob. Twisting around on the sofa, Clary could just overhear her mother's urgent whisper."… Bane," Jocelyn was saying. "I've been calling him and calling him for the past three weeks. His voice mail says he's in Tanzania. What am I supposed to do?" **

"Sorry…" Magnus said. "I may have picked the wrong time to go on vacation…"

**"Jocelyn." Luke shook his head. "You can't keep going to him forever." **

**"But Clary—" **

**"Isn't Jonathan," Luke hissed. "You've never been the same since it happened, but Clary _isn't Jonathan." _**

**_What does my father have to do with this? _****Clary thought, bewildered. **

**"I can't just keep her at home, not let her go out. She won't put up with it." **

**"Of course she won't!" Luke sounded really angry. "She's not a pet, she's a teenager. Almost an adult." **

**"If we were out of the city…" **

**"Talk to her, Jocelyn." Luke's voice was firm. "I mean it." He reached for the doorknob. **

**The door flew open. Jocelyn gave a little scream. **

**"Jesus!" Luke exclaimed. **

**"Actually, it's just me," said Simon. "Although I've been told the resemblance is startling." He waved at Clary from the doorway. "You ready?" **

"Wow, witty…" Jace said while Jordon cracked up laughing.

**Jocelyn took her hand away from her mouth. "Simon, were you eavesdropping?" **

**Simon blinked. "No, I just got here." He looked from Jocelyn's pale face to Luke's grim one. "Is something wrong? Should I go?" **

**"Don't bother," Luke said. "I think we're done here." He pushed past Simon, thudding down the stairs at a rapid pace. Downstairs, the front door slammed shut. **

**Simon hovered in the doorway, looking uncertain. "I can come back later," he said. "Really. It wouldn't be a problem." **

**"That might—," Jocelyn began, but Clary was already on her feet. **

**"Forget it, Simon. We're leaving," she said, grabbing her messenger bag from a hook near the door. She slung it over her shoulder, glaring at her mother. "See you later, Mom." **

**Jocelyn bit her lip. "Clary, don't you think we should talk about this?" **

**"We'll have plenty of time to talk while we're on 'vacation,'" Clary said venomously, and had the satisfaction of seeing her mother flinch. "Don't wait up," she added, and, grabbing Simon's arm, she half-dragged him out the front door. **

**He dug his heels in, looking apologetically over his shoulder at Clary's mother, who stood small and forlorn in the entryway, her hands knitted tightly together. "Bye, Mrs. Fray!" he called. "Have a nice evening!" **

"You're such a suck up!" Jordan laughed.

"Well, I think it's sweet!" Jocelyn said while smiling fondly at Simon.

**"Oh, shut up, Simon," Clary snapped, and slammed the door behind them, cutting off her mother's reply. **

**"Jesus, woman, don't rip my arm off," Simon protested as Clary hauled him downstairs after her, her green Skechers slapping against the wooden stairs with every angry step. She glanced up, half-expecting to see her mother glaring down from the landing, but the apartment door stayed shut. **

**"Sorry," Clary muttered, letting go of his wrist. She paused at the foot of the stairs, her messenger bag banging against her hip. **

**Clary's brownstone, like most in Park Slope, had once been the single residence of a wealthy family. Shades of its former grandeur were still evident in the curving staircase, the chipped marble entryway floor, and the wide single-paned skylight overhead. Now the house was split into separate apartments, and Clary and her mother shared the three-floor building with a downstairs tenant, an elderly woman who ran a psychic's shop out of her apartment. She hardly ever came out of it, though customer visits were infrequent. A gold plaque fixed to the door proclaimed her to be MADAME DOROTHEA, SEERESS AND PROPHETESS. **

**The thick sweet scent of incense spilled from the half-open door into the foyer. Clary could hear a low murmur of voices. **

**"Nice to see she's doing a booming business," Simon said. "It's hard to get steady prophet work these days." **

**"Do you have to be sarcastic about everything?" Clary snapped. **

**Simon blinked, clearly taken aback. "I thought you liked it when I was witty and ironic." **

**Clary was about to reply when the door to Madame Dorothea's swung fully open and a man stepped out. He was tall, with maple-syrup-colored skin, gold-green eyes like a cat's, and tangled black hair. He grinned at her blindingly, showing sharp white teeth. **

"Wow, sounds undeniably handsome…" Alec smirked up at his lover, who in turn, puled him up into hot make out session which only ended when Isabelle's retching became too much for them. Alec, in such a state of pleasure and love, didn't even feel embarrassed.

**A wave of dizziness came over her, the strong sensation that she was going to faint. **

**Simon glanced at her uneasily. "Are you all right? You look like you're going to pass out." **

**She blinked at him. "What? No, I'm fine." **

**He didn't seem to want to let it drop. "You look like you just saw a ghost." **

**She shook her head. The memory of having seen something teased her, but when she tried to concentrate, it slid away like water. "Nothing. I thought I saw Dorothea's cat, but I guess it was just a trick of the light." Simon stared at her. "I haven't eaten anything since yesterday," she added defensively. "I guess I'm a little out of it." **

**He slid a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Come on, I'll buy you some food." **

**"I just can't believe she's being like this," Clary said for the fourth time, chasing a stray bit of guacamole around her plate with the tip of a nacho. They were at a neighborhood Mexican joint, a hole in the wall called Nacho Mama. "Like grounding me every other week wasn't bad enough. Now I'm going to be exiled for the rest of the summer." **

**"Well, you know, your mom gets like this sometimes," Simon said. "Like when she breathes in or out." He grinned at her around his veggie burrito. **

"Simon! What happened to your sweetness?!" Jocelyn exclaimed, feeling a mild sense of betrayal.

"I was just referring to the way you're sometimes a bit…" he searched for the right word, "_uptight._"

**"Oh, sure, act like it's funny," she said. _"You're _not the one getting dragged off to the middle of nowhere for God knows how long—" **

**_"Clary." _****Simon interrupted her tirade. "I'm not the one you're mad at. Besides, it isn't going to be permanent." **

**"How do you know that?" **

**"Well, because I know your mom," Simon said, after a pause. "I mean, you and I have been friends for what, ten years now? I know she gets like this sometimes. She'll think better of it." **

**Clary picked a hot pepper off her plate and nibbled the edge meditatively. "Do you, though?" she said. "Know her, I mean? I sometimes wonder if anyone does." Simon blinked at her. "You lost me there." **

**Clary sucked in air to cool her burning mouth. "I mean, she never talks about herself. I don't know anything about her early life, or her family, or much about how she met my dad. She doesn't even have wedding photos. It's like her life started when she had me. That's what she always says when I ask her about it." **

**"Aw." Simon made a face at her. "That's sweet." **

**"No, it isn't. It's weird. It's weird that I don't know anything about my grandparents. I mean, I know my dad's parents weren't very nice to her, but could they have been _that _bad? What kind of people don't want to even meet their granddaughter?" **

**"Maybe she hates them. Maybe they were abusive or something," Simon suggested. "She does have those scars." **

**Clary stared at him. "She has what?" **

**He swallowed a mouthful of burrito. "Those little thin scars. All over her back and her arms. I _have _seen your mother in a bathing suit, you know." **

**"I never noticed any scars," Clary said decidedly. "I think you're imagining things." **

Simon smirked at his best friend, letting her know that she wouldn't be allowed forget this time that he was right and she was wrong.

**He stared at her, and seemed about to say something when her cell phone, buried in her messenger bag, began an insistent blaring. Clary fished it out, gazed at the numbers blinking on the screen, and scowled. "It's my mom." **

**"I could tell from the look on your face. You going to talk to her?" **

**"Not right now," Clary said, feeling the familiar bite of guilt in her stomach as the phone stopped ringing and voice mail picked up. "I don't want to fight with her." **

**"You can always stay at my house," Simon said. "For as long as you want." **

**"Well, we'll see if she calms down first." Clary punched the voice mail button on her phone. Her mother's voice sounded tense, but she was clearly trying for lightness: "Baby, I'm sorry if I sprang the vacation plan on you. Come on home and we'll talk." Clary hung the phone up before the message ended, feeling even guiltier and still angry at the same time. "She wants to talk about it." **

**"Do you want to talk to her?" **

**"I don't know." Clary rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. "Are you still going to the poetry reading?" **

**"I promised I would." **

**Clary stood up, pushing her chair back. "Then I'll go with you. I'll call her when it's over." The strap of her messenger bag slid down her arm. Simon pushed it back up absently, his fingers lingering at the bare skin of her shoulder. **

Jace glared, and so did Isabelle but their romantic counterparts soothed both.

**The air outside was spongy with moisture, the humidity frizzing Clary's hair and sticking Simon's blue T-shirt to his back. "So, what's up with the band?" she asked. "Anything new? There was a lot of yelling in the background when I talked to you earlier." **

**Simon's face lit up. "Things are great," he said. "Matt says he knows someone who could get us a gig at the Scrap Bar. We're talking about names again too." **

**"Oh, yeah?" Clary hid a smile. Simon's band never actually produced any music. Mostly they sat around in Simon's living room, fighting about potential names and band logos. She sometimes wondered if any of them could actually play an instrument.**

"Of course we do, I play guitar, Eric is a rockin' drummer, Matt plays the base and Kirk… Well Kirk… Um… Well he does something…"

Laughter filled the room but Jordan just looked on expectantly. Simon got the message.

"Oh and Kyle is the best lead singer ever." Jordan ginned triumphantly.

**"What's on the table?"**

**"We're choosing between Sea Vegetable Conspiracy ans Rock Solid Panda."**

**Clary shook her head, "Both are terrible."**

**"Eric suggested lawn Chair Crisis."**

**"Maybe Eric should stick to gaming."**

**"But then we'd have to find a new drummer."**

**"Oh is _that _what he does? I thought he just mooched money off you and went around school telling girls he's in a band to impress them."**

"Seems about right," Simon conceded.

**"Not at all, he's really turned over a new leave. He has a girlfriend. They've been going out for three months."**

**"Practically married," Clary said, stepping around a couple pushing a toddler in a stroller: a little girl with yellow plastic bows in her hair who was clutching a pixie doll with gold streaked sapphire wings. Out of the corner of her eye Clary thought she saw the wings flutter. She turned her head hastily.**

**"Which means," Simon continued,**

"Yay!" mocked Jace sarcastically.

**"That I am the last member of the band _not_ to have a girlfriend. Which, you know, is the whole point of being in a band. To get girls."**

**"I thought it was all about the music." A man with a can cut across her path, heading for Berkeley Street. She glanced away, afraid that if she stared at anyone for too long that they would sprout wings, extra arms, or long, forked tongues like snakes. "Who cares if you have a girlfriend anyway?"**

**"I care," Simon said, gloomily. "Soon the only people left without a girlfriend will be me and Wendell the school janitor. And he smells like Windex."**

**"What's Windex?" Alec asked. The people with mundane knowledge just stared at him, wondering how anyone who could recall any rune or demon species at will could know so little about common household objects.**

**"At least you know he's still available." **

**Simon glared. "Not funny, Fray." **

**"There's always Sheila 'The Thong' Barbarino," Clary suggested. Clary had sat behind her in math class in ninth grade. Every time Sheila had dropped her pencil—which had been often—Clary had been treated to the sight of Sheila's underwear riding up above the waistband of her super-low-rise jeans. **

**"That _is _who Eric's been dating for the past three months," Simon said. "His advice, meanwhile, was that I ought to just decide which girl in school had the most rockin' bod and ask her out on the first day of classes." **

"_Excuse me_?" drawled Isabelle, feminist instinct kicking in.

"That's not what I did with you-" he stopped himself to pull his foot out of his mouth. "I mean, your body isn't what attracted me to you- I mean," Simon looked to his best fiend for assistance.

"What he means, Izzy, is that you are more than just a "_rockin' bod_" to him and that he values you as a person as well. And he agrees that Eric is a sexist pig." Clary finished, silence followed so she prompted, "Right, Si?"

"Oh- oh yeah! Love you?"

She smiled, "Love you too."

**"Eric is a sexist pig," Clary said, suddenly not wanting to know which girl in school Simon thought had the most rockin' bod.**

"Ooh jealous Clary…" Jordan cooed, only to be glared at by Clary, Simon (and their respective partners) and Clary's parents.

**"Maybe you should call the band The Sexist Pigs." **

**"It has a ring to it." Simon seemed unfazed. Clary made a face at him, her messenger bag vibrating as her phone blared. She fished it out of the zip pocket. "Is it your mom again?" he asked. **

**Clary nodded. She could see her mother in her mind's eye, small and alone in the doorway of their apartment. Guilt unfurled in her chest. **

**"Oh no, Baby, I shouldn't have forced the vacation on you…" Clary couldn't help but think about all the bad things that happened because of her selfishness. But then she thought about all the good things (including the warm arm wrapped tightly around her waist) and thought that it was definitely worth it.**

**She glanced up at Simon, who was looking at her, his eyes dark with concern. His face was so familiar she could have traced its lines in her sleep. She thought of the lonely weeks that stretched ahead without him, and shoved the phone back into her bag. "Come on," she said. "We're going to be late for the show." **

"Done!" Luke called, "Who's next?"

**How did you like it? I was thinking of starting a prompt based one shot collection for TMI… How would you guys feel about that? If you like the idea please say so in a review and feel free to leave prompts for if I do end up doing it (likely if I get a good response).**

**_-Rolo_**


	4. Shadowhunter, Chapter 3

**"Shadowhunter"** Simon read after retrieving the book.

**By the time they got to Java Jones, Eric was already onstage, swaying back and forth in front of the microphone with his eyes squinched shut. He'd dyed the tips of his hair pink for the occasion. Behind him, Matt, looking stoned, was beating irregularly on a djembe.**

**"This is going to suck so hard," Clary predicted. She grabbed Simon's sleeve and tugged him toward the doorway. "If we make a run for it, we can still get away."**

**He shook his head determinedly. "I'm nothing if not a man of my word." He squared his shoulders. "I'll get the coffee if you find us a seat. What do you want?"**

**"Just coffee. Black—**_**like my soul."** _

"Wow, Clary, you're so badass!" Jordan cooed.

**Simon headed off toward the coffee bar, muttering under his breath something to the effect that it was a far, far better thing he did now than he had ever done before. Clary went to find them a seat.**

**The coffee shop was crowded for a Monday; most of the threadbare-looking couches and armchairs were taken up with teenagers enjoying a free weeknight. The smell of coffee and clove cigarettes was overwhelming. Finally Clary found an unoccupied love seat in a darkened corner toward the back. The only other person nearby was a blond girl in an orange tank top, absorbed in playing with her iPod. _Good, _Clary thought, _Eric won't be able to find us back here after the show to ask how his poetry was. _**

**The blond girl leaned over the side of her chair and tapped Clary on the shoulder. "Excuse me." Clary looked up in surprise. "Is that your boyfriend?" the girl asked.**

**Clary followed the line of the girl's gaze, already prepared to say, No, _I don't know him, _when she realized the girl meant Simon. He was headed toward them, face scrunched up in concentration as he tried not to drop either of his Styrofoam cups. "Uh, no," Clary said. "He's a friend of mine."**

**The girl beamed. "He's _cute. _Does he have a girlfriend?"**

"Oh. My. God. She liked me? Why didn't you say anything?!"

"I did, you just didn't believe me!"

"Oh…" Simon said, while Isabelle stared at the book, resentfully.

**Clary hesitated a second too long before replying. "No."**

"Oooh, jealous Clary!" Jordan teased, only to be elbowed by Maia and told to leave Clary alone.

**The girl looked suspicious. "Is he gay?"**

Jordan started to leer but was silenced by another elbow to the abdomen.

**Clary was spared responding to this by Simon's return. The blond girl sat back hastily as be set the cups on the table and threw himself down next to Clary. "I hate it when they run out of mugs. Those things are hot." He blew on his fingers and scowled. Clary tried to hide a smile as she watched him. Normally she never thought about whether Simon was good-looking or not. He had pretty dark eyes, she supposed, and he'd filled out well over the past year or so. With the right haircut— "You're staring at me," Simon said. "Why are you staring at me? Have I got something on my face?"**

**_I should tell him, _she thought, though some part of her was strangely reluctant. _I'd be a bad friend if I didn't. _"Don't look now, but that blond girl over there thinks you're cute," she whispered.**

Clary smirked at Simon.

**Simon's eyes flicked sideways to stare at the girl, who was industriously studying an issue of _Shonen Jump. _"The girl in the orange top?" Clary nodded. Simon looked dubious. "What makes you think so?"**

**_Tell him. Go on, tell him. _Clary opened her mouth to reply, and was interrupted by a burst of feedback. She winced and covered her ears as Eric, onstage, wrestled with his microphone.**

**"Sorry about that, guys!" he yelled. "All right. I'm Eric, and this is my homeboy Matt on the drums. My first poem is called 'Untitled.'"**

"Creative…" Jace muttered.

**He screwed up his face as if in pain, and wailed into the mike. _"Come, my faux juggernaut, my nefarious loins! Slather every protuberance with arid zeal!" _**

**Simon slid down in his seat. "Please don't tell anyone I know him."**

**Clary giggled. "Who uses the word loins'?"**

**"Eric," Simon said grimly. "All his poems have loins in them."**

**_"Turgid is my torment!" _Eric wailed. **_**"Agony swells within!"** _

**"You bet it does," Clary said. She slid down in the seat next to Simon. "Anyway, about that girl who thinks you're cute—"**

**"Never mind that for a second," Simon said. Clary blinked at him in surprise. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."**

**"Furious Mole is not a good name for a band," Clary said immediately.**

**"Not that," Simon said. "It's about what we were talking about before. About me not having a girlfriend."**

**"Oh." Clary lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Oh, I don't know. Ask Jaida Jones out," she suggested, naming one of the few girls at St. Xavier's she actually liked. "She's nice, and she likes you."**

**"I don't want to ask Jaida Jones out."**

**"Why not?" Clary found herself seized with a sudden, unspecific resentment. "You don't like smart girls? Still seeking a _rockin' bod_?"**

**"Neither," said Simon, who seemed agitated. "I don't want to ask her out because it wouldn't really be fair to her if I did…"**

**He trailed off. Clary leaned forward. From the corner of her eye she could see the blond girl leaning forward too, plainly eavesdropping. "Why not?"**

**"Because I like someone els**e,**" Simon said.**

"Oh, here comes the declaration of love!" Jace said excitedly, much to the embarrassment of both Clary and Simon.

**"Okay." Simon looked faintly greenish, the way he had once when he'd broken his ankle playing soccer in the park and had had to limp home on it. She wondered what on earth about liking someone could possibly have him wound up to such a pitch of anxiety. "You're not gay, are you?"**

**Simon's greenish color deepened. "If I were, I would dress better."**

"True, true," Magnus said, looking distastefully at Simon's attire. Then he looked at his own boyfriend's worn out jeans and black sweater with holes at the bottom, not from style but wear, and added, "But then again, maybe not."

**"So, who is it, then?" Clary asked.**

**She was about to add that if he were in love with Sheila Barbarino, Eric would kick his ass,**

"You don't think I could take him?" Simon said, offended.

"Not before you got all macho-vampire on me, no"she replied without a second thought.

** when she heard someone cough loudly behind her. It was a derisive sort of cough, the kind of noise someone might make who was trying not to laugh out loud.**

**She turned around.**

**Sitting on a faded green sofa a few feet away from her was Jace.**

"You messed up his declaration!" Alec scolded, "You must have liked her, even back then," Jace took on a slight blush, but not noticeably to anyone but Clary.

**He was wearing the same dark clothes he'd had on the night before in the club. His arms were bare and covered with faint white lines like old scars. His wrists bore wide metal cuffs; she could see the bone handle of a knife protruding from the left one. He was looking right at her, the side of his narrow mouth quirked in amusement.**

**Worse than the feeling of being laughed at was Clary's absolute conviction that he hadn't been sitting there five minutes ago.**

**"What is it?" Simon had followed her gaze, but it was obvious from the blank expression on his face that he couldn't see Jace.**

**_But I see you. _She stared at Jace as she thought it, and he raised his left hand to wave at her. A ring glittered on a slim finger. He got to his feet and began walking, unhurriedly, toward the door. Clary's lips parted in surprise. He was leaving, just like that.**

**_She felt Simon's hand on her arm. He was saying her name, asking her if something was wrong. She barely heard him. "I'll be right back," she heard herself say, as she sprang off the couch, almost forgetting to set her coffee cup down. She raced toward the door, leaving Simon staring after her._**

"Liar," Simon muttered.

**Clary burst through the doors, terrified that Jace would have vanished into the alley shadows like a ghost. But he was there, slouched against the wall. He had just taken something out of his pocket and was punching buttons on it. He looked up in surprise as the door of the coffee shop fell shut behind her.**

**In the rapidly falling twilight, his hair looked coppery gold. "Your friend's poetry is terrible," he said.**

**Clary blinked, caught momentarily off guard. "What?"**

**"I said his poetry was terrible. It sounds like he ate a dictionary and started vomiting up words at random."**

**"I don't care about Eric's poetry." Clary was furious. "I want to know why you're following me."**

**"Who said I was following you?"**

**_"Nice _try. And you were eavesdropping, too. Do you want to tell me what this is about, or should I just call the police?"**

**"And tell them what?" Jace said witheringly. "That invisible people are bothering you? Trust me, little girl, the police aren't going to arrest someone they can't see."**

**"I told you before, my name is not little girl," she said through her teeth. "It's Clary."**

"That's right Clary, don't take any of his shit!" Isabelle cheered.

**"I know," he said. "Pretty name. Like the herb, clary sage. In the old days people thought eating the seeds would let you see the Fair Folk. Did you know that?"**

"Well, that's suiting," Luke smiled, remembering Clary pointing delightedly at a fearie the first time they went to the park together, signaling that the blinding spell was wearing off again.

**"I have no idea what you're talking about."**

**"You don't know much, do you?" he said. There was a lazy contempt in his gold eyes. "You seem to be a mundane like any other mundane, yet you can see me. It's a conundrum."**

**"What's a mundane?"**

**"Someone of the human world. Someone like you."**

**"But _you're _human," Clary said.**

**"I am," he said. "But I'm not like you." There was no defensiveness in his tone. He sounded like he didn't care if she believed him or not.**

"You think you're better. That's why you were laughing at us."

"Well, you got Jace in a nutshell, first try…" Isabelle laughed.

**"I was laughing at you because declarations of love amuse me, especially when unrequited," he said.**

"Really? Even after that you didn't figure it out?" Alec asked, bewildered.

"Well," Clary replied angrily, "It's difficult to see when it's your own best friend that's in love with you, wouldn't you agree?" she finished hotly.

Magnus laughed as Alec blushed like a tomato.

**"And because your Simon is one of the most mundane mundanes I've ever encountered. And because Hodge thought you might be dangerous, but if you are, you certainly don't know it." **

_**"I'm **_**dangerous?" Clary echoed in astonishment. "I saw you kill someone last night. I saw you drive a knife up under his ribs, and—" **_**And I saw him slash at you with fingers like razor blades. I saw you cut and bleeding, and now you look as if nothing ever touched you. **_

**"I may be a killer," Jace said, "but I know what I am. Can you say the same?" **

**"I'm an ordinary human being, just like you said. Who's Hodge?" **

**"My tutor. And I wouldn't be so quick to brand myself as ordinary, if I were you." He leaned forward. "Let me see your right hand." **

**"My right hand?" Clary echoed. He nodded. "If I show you my hand, will you leave me alone?" **

**"Certainly." His voice was edged with amusement. **

"Liar"

**She held out her right hand grudgingly. It looked pale in the half-light spilling from the windows, the knuckles dotted with a light dusting of freckles. Somehow she felt as exposed as if she were pulling up her shirt and showing him her naked chest.**

"If you'd prefer that, go right ahead…" Jace laughed.

"You're walking the line, Jace. Don't even think about her like that" Jocelyn said, in a low voice with an evil grin on her face that made Jace gulp and shuffle back in his seat. Jocelyn just winked at her awe-struck daughter.

**He took her hand in his and turned it over. "Nothing." He sounded almost disappointed. "You're not left-handed, are you?"**

**"No. Why?"**

**He released her hand with a shrug. "Most Shadowhunter children get Marked on their right hands—or left, if they're left-handed like I am—when they're still young. It's a permanent rune that lends an extra skill with weapons." He showed her the back of his left hand; it looked perfectly normal to her.**

**"I don't see anything," she said.**

**"Let your mind relax," he suggested. "Wait for it to come to you. Like waiting for something to rise to the surface of water."**

**"You're crazy." But she relaxed, gazing at his hand, seeing the tiny lines across the knuckles, the long joints of the fingers—**

**It jumped out at her suddenly, flashing like a DON'T WALK sign. A black design like an eye across the back of his hand. She blinked, and it vanished. "A tattoo?"**

**He smiled smugly and lowered his hand. "I thought you could do it. And it's not a tattoo—it's a Mark. They're runes, burned into our skin."**

**"They make you handle weapons better?" Clary found this hard to believe, though perhaps no more hard to believe than the existence of zombies.**

**"Different Marks do different things. Some are permanent but the majority vanish when they've been used."**

"Oh my God, Jace. What didn't you tell her?" Alec chided.

**"That's why your arms aren't all inked up today?" she asked. "Even when I concentrate?"**

**"That's exactly why." He sounded pleased with himself. "I knew you had the Sight, at least." He glanced up at the sky. "It's nearly full dark. We should go."**

**"We? I thought you were going to leave me alone."**

**"I lied," Jace said without a shred of embarrassment. "Hodge said I have to bring you to the Institute with me. He wants to talk to you."**

**"Why would he want to talk to me?"**

**"Because you know the truth now," Jace said. "There hasn't been a mundane who knew about us for at least a hundred years."**

**"About _us?" _she echoed. "You mean people like you. People who believe in demons."**

**"People who kill them," said Jace. "We're called Shadow-hunters. At least, that's what we call ourselves. The Downworlders have less complimentary names for us."**

Magnus grinned, "Yeah we do."

**"Downworlders?"**

**"The Night Children. Warlocks. The fey. The magical folk of this dimension."**

**Clary shook her head. "Don't stop there. I suppose there are also, what, vampires and werewolves and zombies?"**

**"Of course there are," Jace informed her. "Although you mostly find zombies farther south, where the _voudun _priests are."**

**"What about mummies? Do they only hang around Egypt?"**

**"Don't be ridiculous. No one believes in mummies."**

"Of course not," Simon said, mock-serious, "Because that would be insane…"

**"They don't?"**

**"Of course not," Jace said. "Look, Hodge will explain all this to you when you see him."**

**Clary crossed her arms over her chest. "What if I don't want to see him?"**

**"That's your problem. You can come either willingly or unwillingly."**

**Clary couldn't believe her ears. "Are you threatening to _kidnap _me?"**

**"If you want to look at it that way," Jace said, "yes."**

"Without a hint of shame…" Clary added

**Clary opened her mouth to protest angrily, but was interrupted by a strident buzzing noise. Her phone was ringing again.**

**"Go ahead and answer that if you like," Jace said generously.**

**The phone stopped ringing, then started up again, loud and insistent. Clary frowned—her mom must really be freaking out. She half-turned away from Jace and began digging in her bag. By the time she unearthed the phone, it was on its third set of rings. She raised it to her ear. "Mom?"**

**"Oh, Clary. Oh, thank God." A sharp prickle of alarm ran up Clary's spine. Her mother sounded panicked. "Listen to me—"**

**"It's all right, Mom. I'm fine. I'm on my way home—"**

**_"No!" _Terror scraped Jocelyn's voice raw. "Don't come home! Do you understand me, Clary? Don't you dare come home. Go to Simon's. Go straight to Simon's house and stay there until I can—" A noise in the background interrupted her: the sound of something falling, shattering, something heavy striking the floor—**

**"Mom!" Clary shouted into the phone. "Mom, are you all right?"**

Luke looked uncomfortable and Jocelyn snuggled closed to him, seeking comfort.

**A loud buzzing noise came from the phone. Clary's mother's voice cut through the static: "Just promise me you won't come home. Go to Simon's and call Luke—tell him that he's found me—" Her words were drowned out by a heavy crash like splintering wood.**

Luke looked down in shame, remembering how that conversation went.

**_"Who's _found you? Mom, did you call the police? Did you—"**

**Her frantic question was cut off by a noise Clary would never forget—a harsh, slithering noise, followed by a thump. Clary heard her mother draw in a sharp breath before speaking, her voice eerily calm: "I love you, Clary."**

**The phone went dead.**

**_"Mom!" _Clary shrieked into the phone. "Mom, are you there?" _Call ended, _the screen said. But why would her mother have hung up like that?**

**"Clary," Jace said. It was the first time she'd ever heard him say her name. "What's going on?"**

**Clary ignored him. Feverishly she hit the button that dialed her home number. There was no answer except a double-tone busy signal.**

**Clary's hands had begun to shake uncontrollably. When she tried to redial, the phone slipped out of her shaking grasp and hit the pavement hard. She dropped to her knees to retrieve it, but it was dead, a long crack visible across the front. "Dammit!" Almost in tears, she threw the phone down.**

**"Stop that." Jace hauled her to her feet, his hand gripping her wrist. "Has something happened?"**

**"Give me your phone," Clary said, grabbing the black metal oblong out of his shirt pocket. "I have to—"**

**"It's not a phone," Jace said, making no move to get it back. "It's a Sensor. You won't be able to use it."**

**"But I need to call the police!"**

**"Tell me what happened first." She tried to yank her wrist back, but his grip was incredibly strong. "I can _help _you."**

"Super Jace to the rescue once again…" Jordan called, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly taken over the room

**Rage flooded through Clary, a hot tide through her veins. Without even thinking about it, she struck out at his face, her nails raking his cheek. He jerked back in surprise. Tearing herself free, Clary ran toward the lights of Seventh Avenue.**

"Wow, overpowered by a mundie girl with no training," Alec teased.

"First, I'm not a mundie, second, I'm from Brooklyn- so I wouldn't say I have no training…" she trailed, to a laughing Simon.

**When she reached the street, she spun around, half-expecting to see Jace at her heels. But the alley was empty. For a moment she stared uncertainly into the shadows. Nothing moved inside them. She spun on her heel and ran for home.**

"Jace!" Isabelle screech, "When a girl runs off frantically crying and in obvious distress, you go after her!"

"Unless she's running from you, then just hide from the police that are inevitably coming," Simon helpfully added.

"That's the end of the chapter," he continued and handed the book over to Maia.


	5. Ravener, Chapter4

**Okay- I'm soooo sorry! I know it's been so long since I updated and I hate when authors do that but I've been going through some stuff. It'll probably take a while for me to update once again but I'm going to try my hardest to see this story through.**

** "Ravener" **read Alec.

"Wait," Jocelyn interjected, "After this chapter we should probably go have dinner." Everyone agreed and Alec continued to read.

**The night had gotten even hotter, and running home felt like swimming as fast as she could through boiling soup. At the corner of her block Clary got trapped at a DON'T WALK sign. She jittered up and down impatiently on the balls of her feet while traffic whizzed by in a blur of headlights. She tried to call home again, but Jace hadn't been lying; his phone ****_wasn't _****a phone.**

"Oh, I wasn't lying? Well there's a change…" Jace started sarcastically, "Slightly offended you don't trust me…" he said only to be looked at, incredulously.

"It's not like you gave me much reason to… _"I leave you alone if you show me your arm", "I'm a killer", "Yeah I will kill that boy if you move" _do these sound like things that would earn my trust?" Clary questioned while raising her eyebrows.

Jace looked around for help but shlumped back in his chair when no one jumped to his defence.

**At least, it didn't look like any phone Clary had ever seen before. The Sensor's buttons didn't have numbers on them, just more of those bizarre symbols, and there was no screen.**

**Jogging up the street toward her house, she saw that the second-floor windows were lit, the usual sign that her mother was home. ****_Okay, _****she told herself. ****_Everything's fine. _****But her stomach tightened the moment she stepped into the entryway. The overhead light had burned out, and the foyer was in darkness. The shadows seemed full of secret movement. Shivering, she started upstairs.**

**"And just where do you think you're going ?" said a voice.**

**Clary whirled. "What—"**

**She broke off. Her eyes were adjusting to the dimness, and she could see the shape of a large armchair, drawn up in front of Madame Dorothea's closed door. The old woman was wedged into it like an overstuffed cushion. In the dimness Clary could see only the round shape of her powdered face, the white lace fan in her hand, the dark, yawning gap of her mouth when she spoke. "Your mother," Dorothea said, "has been making a godawful racket up there. What's she doing? Moving furniture?"**

**"I don't think—"**

**"And the stairwell light's burned out, did you notice?" Dorothea rapped her fan against the arm of the chair. "Can't your mother get her boyfriend in to change it?"**

**"Luke isn't—"**

**"The skylight needs washing too. It's filthy. No wonder it's nearly pitch-black in here."**

**_Luke is NOT the landlord, _**

"Thank you!" Luke exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. "Every time I'm there _"Fix the lightbulb", "The fuse is broken in my lamp", "I need you to get the sofa out of my house"_" he impersonated.

**Clary wanted to say, but didn't. This was typical of her elderly neighbor. Once she got Luke to come around and change the lightbulb, she'd ask him to do a hundred other things—pick up her groceries, grout her shower. Once she'd made him chop up an old sofa with an axe so she could get it out of the apartment without taking the door off the hinges.**

**Clary sighed. "I'll ask."**

**"You'd better." Dorothea snapped her fan shut with a flick of her wrist.**

"Oh yeah, Luke, Dorothea needs you to fix the stairwell light" everyone laughed **_(AN: let's just pretend she didn't die, okay?)_**

**Clary's sense that something was wrong only increased when she reached the apartment door. It was unlocked, hanging slightly open, spilling a wedge-shaped shaft of light onto the landing. With a feeling of increasing panic she pushed the door open.**

**Inside the apartment the lights were on, all the lamps, everything turned up to full brightness. The glow stabbed into her eyes.**

**Her mother's keys and pink handbag were on the small wrought iron shelf by the door, where she always left them. "Mom?" Clary called out. "Mom, I'm home."**

Everyone looked pitifully at Clary.

**There was no reply. She went into the living room. Both windows were open, yards of gauzy white curtains blowing in the breeze like restless ghosts. Only when the wind dropped and the curtains settled did Clary see that the cushions had been ripped from the sofa and scattered around the room. Some were torn lengthwise, cotton innards spilling onto the floor. The bookshelves had been tipped over, their contents scattered. The piano bench lay on its side, gaping open like a wound, Jocelyn's beloved music books spewing out.**

**Most terrifying were the paintings. Every single one had been cut from its frame and ripped into strips, which were scattered across the floor. It must have been done with a knife—canvas was almost impossible to tear with your bare hands. **

"Demons are much stro-" Izzy began to explain but was cut off by Clary.

"I know! I didn't then, but I do now!" this silenced Izzy and Alec continued to read.

**The empty frames looked like bones picked clean. Clary felt a scream rising up in her chest: ****_"Mom!" _****she shrieked. ****_"Where are you? Mommy!"_**

"Everyone looked at Clary surprised and she was getting embarrassed and annoyed by all the attention.

**She hadn't called Jocelyn "Mommy" since she was eight.**

**Heart pumping, she raced into the kitchen. It was empty, the cabinet doors open, a smashed bottle of Tabasco sauce spilling peppery red liquid onto the linoleum. Her knees felt like bags of water. She knew she should race out of the apartment, get to a phone, call the police. But all those things seemed distant—she needed to find her mother first, needed to see that she was all right. What if robbers had come, what if her mother had put up a fight—?**

**_What kind of robbers didn't take a wallet with them, or the TV, the DVD player, or the expensive laptops?_**

Alec paused to explain but read swiftly onwards at the look on Clary's face.

**She was at the door to her mother's bedroom now. For a moment it looked as if this room, at least, had been left untouched. Jocelyn's handmade flowered quilt was folded carefully on the duvet. Clary's own face smiled back at her from the top of the bedside table, five years old, gap-toothed smile framed by strawberry hair. A sob rose in Clary's chest. ****_Mom, _****she cried inside, ****_what happened to you?_**

**Silence answered her. No, not silence—a noise sounded through the apartment, raising the short hairs along the nape of her neck.**

"What's that?" asked Jocelyn, though she feared she knew the answer.

Alec read on, desperate to see how an inexperienced fighter killed a demon all by herself.

** Like something being knocked over—a heavy object striking the floor with a dull thud. The thud was followed by a dragging, slithering noise—and it was coming toward the bedroom. Stomach contracting in terror, Clary scrambled to her feet and turned around slowly.**

**For a moment she thought the doorway was empty, and she felt a wave of relief. Then she looked down.**

**It was crouched against the floor, a long, scaled creature with a cluster of flat black eyes set dead center in the front of its domed skull. **

Jocelyn grabbed Luke's hand and squeezed.

**Something like a cross between an alligator and a centipede, it had a thick, flat snout and a barbed tail that whipped menacingly from side to side. Multiple legs bunched underneath it as it readied itself to spring.**

**A shriek tore itself out of Clary's throat. She staggered backward, tripped, and fell, just as the creature lunged at her. She rolled to the side and it missed her by inches, sliding along the wood floor, its claws gouging deep grooves. **

"Wow, Fray… Smooth…" Simon teased. Isabelle shot him an incredulous look but Clary and Luke understood what she was doing.

"Like you could do better, y'know, for a vampire, you're kinda a wuss." Clary replied cooly.

"Pfft, please! I could take you!"

"Oh really? You wanna go? Cause we can go right now?" Clary said, standing up.

"I- I don't think so," Simon stuttered, while backing up in his seat. He saw his mistake instantly and changed course. "I'm too much of a gentleman for that kind of thing."

Clary grinned and sat back down beside Jace.

**A low growl bubbled from its throat.**

**She scrambled to her feet and ran toward the hallway, but the thing was too fast for her. It sprang again, landing just above the door, where it hung like a gigantic malignant spider, staring down at her with its cluster of eyes. Its jaws opened slowly, showing a row of fanged teeth spilling greenish drool. A long black tongue flickered out between its jaws as it gurgled and hissed.**

Jace growled and tucked her in closer to him. Clary didn't admit it but she loved it.

**To her horror Clary realized that the noises it was making were words.**

**_"Girl," _****it hissed. ****_"Flesh. Blood. To eat, oh, to eat."_**

**It began to slither slowly down the wall. Some part of Clary had passed beyond terror into a sort of icy stillness. The thing was on its feet now, crawling toward her. Backing away, she seized a heavy framed photo off the bureau beside her—herself and her mother and Luke at Coney Island, about to go on the bumper cars—and flung it at the monster.**

"Yeah, that'll work," Alec said sarcastically, "I thought you said you killed this thing, how?"

"You'll see!" Jace sang proudly.

**The photograph hit its midsection and bounced off, striking the floor with the sound of shattering glass. The creature didn't seem to notice. It came on toward her, broken glass splintering under its feet. "Bones, ****_to crunch, to suck out the marrow, to drink the veins…"_**

"Am I the only one creeped out by this?" Simon asked.

"Hmm, we're all pretty used to it by now" Izzy shrugged.

**Clary's back hit the wall. She could back up no farther. She felt a movement against her hip and nearly jumped out of her skin. Her pocket. Plunging her hand inside, she drew out the plastic thing she'd taken from Jace. The Sensor was shuddering, like a cell phone set to vibrate. The hard material was almost painfully hot against her palm. She closed her hand around the Sensor just as the creature sprang.**

**The creature hurtled into her, knocking her to the ground, and her head and shoulders slammed against the floor. She twisted to the side, but it was too heavy. It was on top of her, an oppressive, slimy weight that made her want to gag. ****_"To eat, to eat," _****it moaned. ****_"But it is not allowed, to swallow, to savor."_**

**The hot breath in her face stank of blood. She couldn't breathe. Her ribs felt like they might shatter. Her arm was pinned between her body and the monster's, the Sensor digging into her palm. She twisted, trying to work her hand free. ****_"Valentine will never know. He said nothing about a girl. Valentine will not be angry." _****Its lipless mouth twitched as its jaws opened, slowly, a wave of stinking breath hot in her face.**

**Clary's hand came free. With a scream she hit out at the thing, wanting to smash it, to blind it. She had almost forgotten the Sensor. As the creature lunged for her face, jaws wide, she jammed the Sensor between its teeth and felt hot, acidic drool coat her wrist and spill in burning drops onto the bare skin of her face and throat. As if from a distance, she could hear herself screaming.**

"That's actually a good idea…" Magnus mused.

**Looking almost surprised, the creature jerked back, the Sensor lodged between two teeth. It growled, a thick angry buzz, and threw its head back. Clary saw it swallow, saw the movement of its throat. ****_I'm next, _****she thought, panicked. ****_I'm_****—**

**Suddenly the thing began to twitch. Spasming uncontrollably, it rolled off Clary and onto its back, multiple legs churning the air. Black fluid poured from its mouth.**

**Gasping for air, Clary rolled over and started to scramble away from the thing. She'd nearly reached the door when she heard something whistle through the air next to her head. She tried to duck, but it was too late. An object slammed heavily into the back of her skull, and she collapsed forward into blackness.**

**Light stabbed through her eyelids, blue, white, and red. There was a high wailing noise, rising in pitch like the scream of a terrified child. Clary gagged and opened her eyes.**

**She was lying on cold damp grass. The night sky rippled overhead, the pewter gleam of stars washed out by city lights. Jace knelt beside her,**

"Yay, Jacey here to save the day again!" Maia teased. Jace glared.

**the silver cuffs on his wrists throwing off sparks of light as he tore the piece of cloth he was holding into strips. "Don't move."**

**The wailing threatened to split her ears in half. Clary turned her head to the side, disobediently, and was rewarded with a razoring stab of pain that shot down her back.**

Simon laughed to himself, that didn't go unnoticed by Clary.

** She was lying on a patch of grass behind Jocelyn's carefully tended rosebushes. The foliage partially hid her view of the street, where a police car, its blue-and-white light bar flashing, was pulled up to the curb, siren wailing. Already a small knot of neighbors had gathered, staring as the car door opened and two blue-uniformed officers emerged.**

**The ****_police. _****She tried to sit up, and gagged again, fingers spasming into the damp earth.**

**"I told you not to move," Jace hissed. "That Ravener demon got you in the back of the neck. It was half-dead so it wasn't much of a sting, but we have to get you to the Institute. Hold still."**

**"That thing—the monster—it ****_talked." _****Clary was shuddering uncontrollably.**

**"You've heard a demon talk before."**

**Jace's hands were gentle as he slipped the strip of knotted cloth under her neck, and tied it. It was smeared with something waxy, like the gardener's salve her mother used to keep her paint- and turpentine-abused hands soft.**

**"The demon in Pandemonium—it looked like a person."**

**"It was an Eidolon demon. A shape-changer. Raveners look like they look. Not very attractive, but they're too stupid to care."**

**"It said it was going to eat me."**

**"But it didn't. You killed it." Jace finished the knot and sat back.**

Jace smile proudly.

**To Clary's relief the pain in the back of her neck had faded. She hauled herself into a sitting position. "The police are here." Her voice came out like a frog's croak. "We should—"**

**"There's nothing they can do. Somebody probably heard you screaming and reported it. Ten to one those aren't real police officers. Demons have a way of hiding their tracks."**

**"My mom," Clary said, forcing the words through her swollen throat.**

Jocelyn smiled weakly; even when her daughter was dying she thought on her.

**"There's Ravener poison coursing through your veins ****_right now. _****You'll be dead in an hour if you don't come with me."**

**He got to his feet and held out a hand to her. She took it and he pulled her upright. "Come on."**

**The world tilted. Jace slid a hand across her back, holding her steady. He smelled of dirt, blood, and metal. "Can you walk?"**

**"I think so." She glanced through the densely blooming bushes. She could see the police coming up the path. One of them, a slim blond woman, held a flashlight in one hand. As she raised it, Clary saw the hand was fleshless, a skeleton hand sharpened to bone points at the fingertips. "Her hand—"**

**"I told you they might be demons." Jace glanced at the back of the house. "We have to get out of here. Can we go through the alley?"**

**Clary shook her head. "It's bricked up. There's no way—" Her words dissolved into a fit of coughing. She raised her hand to cover her mouth. It came away red. She whimpered.**

**He grabbed her wrist, turned it over so the white, vulnerable flesh of her inner arm lay bare under the moonlight. Traceries of blue vein mapped the inside of her skin, carrying poisoned blood to her heart, her brain. Clary felt her knees buckle. There was something in Jace's hand, something sharp and silver. She tried to pull her hand back, but his grip was too hard: She felt a stinging kiss against her skin. When he let go, she saw an inked black symbol like the ones that covered his skin, just below the fold of her wrist. This one looked like a set of overlapping circles.**

"You just marked her?!" screeched Luke, surprisingly not Jocelyn. "It could have killed her" he growled..

"Oh my God, Luke! I'm obviously not dead, please stop screaming!" Clary moaned. Luke was so taken aback he just stumble backwards and sat down again.

**"What's that supposed to do?"**

**"It'll hide you," he said. "Temporarily." He slid the thing Clary had thought was a knife back into his belt. It was a long, luminous cylinder, as thick around as an index finger and tapering to a point. "My stele," he said.**

**Clary didn't ask what that was. She was busy trying not to fall over. The ground was heaving**

**up and down under her feet. "Jace," she said, and she crumpled into him. He caught her as if he were used to catching fainting girls, as if he did it every day. Maybe he did. He swung her up into his arms, saying something in her ear that sounded like ****_Covenant. _****Clary tipped her head back to look at him but saw only the stars cartwheeling across the dark sky overhead. Then the bottom dropped out of everything, and even Jace's arms around her were not enough to keep her from falling.**

"Okay that's it, who's next?"

**So that's it. Please review! Once again, so sorry for the long update!**

**-Rolo**


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